The moon hung heavy above the battlefield, pale and watchful, its silver light spilling over broken banners and the stench of smoke. Selene pulled the hood of her white cloak tighter, trying to hide the shimmer of her pale hair. A Moonborn priestess did not belong here—among corpses, fire-scorched soil, and the dying groans of men. Her hands, trained to heal and guide, trembled as they brushed against the hilt of the ceremonial dagger at her waist.
But destiny had dragged her here all the same.
Her people whispered the prophecy every night since she was a child: When fire weds the moon, the world will burn or be reborn. The words had haunted her dreams, etched into her bones. She had prayed they would remain just that—a whisper, a tale to frighten children. But as the wind carried the acrid scent of ash into her lungs, Selene knew the prophecy had begun.
The clash of steel still echoed faintly in the distance, though the battle here was over. Fires devoured what once was a sacred square, licking hungrily at the toppled statues of the moon goddess. Selene's chest tightened. Every ruin, every body, every stain of blood was a reminder of what the Firebloods had taken from her people.
A sharp crack split the night. Not steel, but flame.
She spun, pressing her back against the broken pillar of the temple. Across the square, through the veil of smoke and ash, a figure emerged wreathed in fire. His crimson cloak whipped in the hot wind, sparks scattering with every step. His presence was impossible to mistake—Kael, crown prince of the Firebloods.
Even at a distance, she could feel his power. It radiated from him in waves, searing, wild, untamed. The air itself bent around him, shimmering with heat. He was the enemy. The scourge of her people. The butcher of her kind. The man she should loathe above all others.
And yet… her heart betrayed her. It beat faster, heavier, as if it knew him.
Their eyes met through the smoke. His gaze was molten gold, narrowed in suspicion, but beneath the sharpness lingered something unspoken. Recognition.
"You," Kael's voice carried across the broken square like a command. Strong, deep, impossible to ignore. "You shouldn't be here, priestess."
Selene's throat tightened. For a heartbeat, she thought of fleeing, but her pride rooted her in place. She straightened, clutching the edge of her cloak to hide her trembling. "Neither should you. Fire does not belong under moonlight."
His lips curved, not quite a smile—more like a challenge. He stepped closer, boots hissing where they met the scorched ground. "And yet here we are. Moon and fire. Drawn together as if fate itself mocks us."
The shard of moonstone at her neck pulsed, hot against her skin. Selene's breath caught. No. Not now. Not here. The bond. She had prayed the old stories were lies, but she felt it—an invisible thread tightening between them, burning and chilling her all at once.
Her knees weakened as his aura pressed against hers. The bond did not just tether—it bled. She could feel his emotions, faint but undeniable. Anger, pride, suspicion… and beneath it, something she did not expect. A loneliness that mirrored her own.
Her fingers curled around the moonstone until her knuckles whitened. "This cannot be," she whispered. "I will not be bound to you."
Kael's fire flared higher, lighting the ruins in gold and red. He closed the distance with measured steps until he stood only a breath away. The heat rolling from him wrapped around her, suffocating and intoxicating all at once.
"You think I want this?" His voice was low, rough with fury—or was it fear? "The bond is a curse. But we cannot outrun it, priestess."
Selene lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet his burning gaze. Her voice trembled, but her words did not falter. "Then I will break it."
For the first time, something flickered across his face—pain, quickly smothered by pride. His gaze darkened, flames reflecting in his eyes. "Try," he murmured, almost gently, "and you may break the world instead."
The prophecy's weight pressed down on her shoulders, heavier than the moon itself. Her people depended on her. Her goddess demanded her loyalty. And yet here stood the man who should be her mortal enemy, bound to her by fate's cruel design.
She hated him. She wanted to hate him. But the bond tugged at her soul, whispering of a different truth—that she had been his long before she was ever her own.
Selene stepped back, breath shallow, heart wild. The firelight chased shadows across Kael's sharp features, and in that instant, she saw not the crown prince of the Firebloods, not the destroyer of her people—but a man, shackled by the same curse she bore.
It terrified her more than any blade.
And in that moment, Selene understood one thing with terrifying clarity: whether she destroyed Kael or surrendered to him, the world would never be the same.